Page 156 of Eternal
“Hey,” I say, stepping up beside her. My voice is low, soft, I don't want to scare her away. “How old are you?”
She hesitates, wiping her hands on her apron. “Sixteen.”
Sixteen.
‘You’re a woman now.’
I need to stop my mind from remembering right now.
But I can’t help it. I know exactly what that look means. I know what kind of people prey on girls like her.
And I know why she’s here. The same kind of person took advantage of me. They stole everything, my choice, my voice, without permission, without care. My tears, my screaming... none of it ever mattered.
They only take from young women still trying to find their shape in the world, naive in their eyes, when really, they’re simply trying to build themselves.
“You’re too young for this,” I whisper almost to myself, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the shelf, popping the cork and taking a shot.
Focus Azra.
“I… I need to get out of my house,” she says, her voice too small. “My mom’s boyfriend… he…he hurts me. I need money to leave.”
Her words hit me harder than I wanted to. Because it takes me back to another time, another place, another me.
Before the job, before the blood. The fake home. The abuse. The way I had to fight to survive. And the way I lost every battle.
I pour the whiskey again, watching the amber liquid cascade into the glass.
I’m fucking this up. I’m fucking this up…
The girl’s voice wavers again as she continues. “I need to leave. That’s why I’m here. I don’t care what I have to do. I need to get out.”
I pause.
She’s like me, in a different way, trying to escape, trying to survive, even if it means sinking lower.
I was like that too. Maybe that’s why I want to help her, give her the options no one gave me.
I hand her the glass, letting her take it with shaky hands.
“You need to leave,” I say flatly, looking at her through the sharp edge of the knife I keep tucked at my waist. “Forget everything. Don’t say a word about tonight to anyone. If you do, you’ll die.”
Her eyes flicker to mine, searching for something. Maybe she thinks I’m kidding, she’s not stupid, but she doesn’t understand this world.
“Take the money from one of the guests. The ones at the table,” I continue, my voice low. “Steal it in the bag of that woman as you give her this glass. You need to be quick, no hesitation. You’ll have enough until you find a real safe job. Then leave. Don’t look back.”
She looks at me, confused. “But?—”
“I said leave,” I snapped, not bothering to explain further. I need to fucking scare her away. I need to. “If you don’t, I’ll make sure you don’t walk out of here.”
Her face pales immediately, and I can see the fear starting to fill her eyes. She’s never been in a situation like this, but she knows I’m not joking.
“Go,” I repeat. “Now.”
She nods quickly, her eyes wide, and I watch her do as I say, take the money away slowly as the woman starts to scream at her and then slip out the back door.
She won’t last long if she keeps being reckless. But she won’t say a word, I know that.
I turn, checking the kitchen again to make sure the chefs are leaving too. I don’t want anyone to be left standing when the night’s over.
